Something Lost, Something Found
by Ms-Trixie
Summary: In a world where the only hope was in the form of a deceased child, darkness roamed the land. An unlikely hero long thought dead makes an appearance from a different universe…can this alternate dimension be saved?
1. Something Lost

**Summary:** _In a world where the only hope was in the form of a deceased child, darkness roamed the land. An unlikely hero long thought dead makes an appearance from a different universe…can this alternate dimension be saved?_

**Chapter One: 'Something Lost'**

_"I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut  
My weakness is that I care too much  
And my scars remind me that the past is real  
I tear my heart open just to feel."_

_- 'Scars' by Papa Roach  
_

'It was October 31st, 1996, Halloween. For most witches and wizards this was one of the biggest holidays, and was often celebrated with enthusiasm…all except for the Potters.

To them, it was a nightmare from Hell.

Thirty-five year old Lily Potter tapped her foot uneasily on the hard stone floors, her emerald eyes unsettled. If one looked close enough, they would see a deep sadness etched in the green depths that should not have been allowed on such a young face. To the untrained eye, she was just another edgy statue in the larger picture of war.

It was past five-thirty, and she was impatiently waiting for her husband and obnoxious friend to come back from their dangerous Auror occupation. It was only another worry to add to her anxiety, with a husband as a lead Auror in a full-fledged dangerous war against the darkest Dark Lord history has ever seen. Not only was he a half-hour late from work – it was also Halloween.

"Oh James, where in the world are you?" forty-five minutes later and still no sign of her messy haired man. Sighing Lily decided to just head home and hopes he showed up in the next few hours, or she'd have to contact the authorities again; it was not the first time he had gone missing on some mission and not come home.

Pushing open the door of their manor, the redhead called into the hall, "Wispy?"

In a flash, a House Elf dressed immaculately in a maid's dress with the crest of a capital 'P' on the breast, appeared.

"Misses Potter is home!" The elf Wispy squealed. "But Wispy is wondering where Master Potter is?"

"He's still at work." Lily smiled gently at Wispy, crouching down to her eye level. Even if it was considered 'below wizarding standards' to become even with a House Elf, Lily strongly believed in equal rights, and she treated her House Elf as so. "Is Gwyn still awake?"

"No, no, no, no, no!" Wispy shook her head, offended. "Wispy be a good House Elf and make sure that Misses Gwendolyn gets proper rest. Misses Gwendolyn is sleeping, Master Potter."

"Good." Lily smiled. "And it's Lily. How many times do I have to remind you of that?"

Wispy looked sheepish. "Wispy be told a lot, Master Pott- I be meaning to say, Lily."

Lily straightened up, excusing herself from the hard working Elf. "I'll just be in the Library." It was her place to go whenever things got rough, or her nerves got the best of her. At the moment, she really could do with a nice book and a cup of hot coffee.

Telling this to the House Elf, Lily settled in the spacious room filled with books of all kinds. The smell of aging paper, ink, and fresh books off the press always made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. It was a favorite past time hobby of hers to sit back and just read a good book. Lately though, she didn't find as much time to enjoy herself or anything at all really, with the war going on and all.

The war. It was an impending thing on many minds. But being a member of a secret society lead by Albus Dumbledore in order to help bring down the Dark Forces, time of joy was a precious thing, and not found often. Lately the dread of war was growing on her and the people around her in a great frenzy. The air was thick with mistrust and hate; there was no such thing as eye contact or heart-felt smiling anymore.

Ever since that _incident_ all those years ago, her world was flipped upside down. Things in the Wizarding World had twisted rapidly. Lord Voldemort, more commonly known as You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was a growing influence and gathered hundreds of servants daily. Together, lead by the senile Dark Lord himself, they wreaked havoc on the place so many lived their lives in, and brought destruction to the already corrupt Wizarding World.

Even though Lily didn't want to admit it, they were fighting a losing battle. Each day Dumbledore lost more defenses and Voldemort gained twice as many. Each day the clock ticked by and people were killed in their homes, just because of how they were born. Each day, more people began to lose hope.

To Lily, what little hope they did have already died. It died on that Halloween, all those years ago.

A quiet 'POP' was heard, and Wispy appeared with a tray laden with fresh coffee. Lily accepted the cup silently, and then proceeded to look outside the dark window, waiting for her husband to arrive home.

* * *

James Potter opened the door to the library quietly. He was two hours late, but that couldn't be helped, no matter what he wanted to think. The forces were much stronger then they had anticipated, and after losing more then three quarters of their troop, retreating was the only option. He was thankful, at least, that Sirius and him had made it, though the images of those lost still burned bright in his mind.

James closed the door just as softly behind him. His wife, he knew, would be in a panic, or have fallen into a restless sleep on that favorite armchair of hers. The latter proved to be right. He gently shook her shoulder.

"Lily," He whispered. "I'm home."

A slight flutter of the eyelids, some murmuring, then –

"JAMES POTTER!"

The 35-year-old Auror was attuned to these yells by now, and calmly put a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries.

She stopped instantly, eyes wide and fearful. He knew much of her anger was not directed at him, but the world in which they lived in. Her fear was not lost on him either, and he only had one person to blame for that - Voldemort.

The thought of the madman alone sent shivers of rage and disgust up his spine – along with a chill of fear. The man had committed many distasteful and horrible crimes in the past, but he had also taken something from James, something he would never have back. A baby. A boy. _His son_.

James didn't think he could ever find it in himself to forgive him for that. Ever.

Lily's body went limp with exhaustion in his arms, and he lifted her slim body effortlessly, carrying her to their room. This was often how their evenings went. The only consolation and contact they got from one another now was during these moments, and brief hugs before duty calls. The sight of each other breathing, slow, normal and healthy breaths, and all in one piece, was more than enough consolation for them both now.

After he tucked her in, he gently tiptoed down to little Gwendolyn's room, peeping through the crack in the door at her sleeping form.

After Harry died, they went through a disastrous period of mixed emotions. None of them knew whom to blame, and all their anger was directed more or less at everyone around them, and each other. It wasn't until four years later, when Gwendolyn came along, did either really settle down. Even then, with the war going on, peace was a rare and precious gift; they held onto whatever they could.

* * *

Suddenly, like a ripple spreading through clam waters, a high cold voice broke the silence, streaming around them clear as day.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it, Potter?"

Several people paled, and all fell silent, glancing in Harry's direction with mixed emotions. No one dared to step forward and interrupt the legendary battle.

The boy in question felt his stomach coil; the uncomfortable feeling of fear gripping him like a rope. Ron and Hermione watched from outside the protective bubble, holding hands with determined expressions on their faces. Harry's heart lifted slightly.

_'If they can hope in a moment like this, so can I.'_ He thought fiercely, holding his wand aloft with renewed vengeance. '_If I go down, this bastard is going down with me.'_

"Not if I can help it." Harry growled. "_Expelliarmus_!"

At the same time Voldemort yelled; "_Avada Kedavra_!"

The impact of both spells collided, causing a magical backlash so great; they were blasted off their feet. The last thing Harry knew were the screams of those outside the bubble, then all was black.

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Mission

**A/N:** _Thanks to those who reviewed, and to answer some of your questions, YES the chapters will be longer; I just need to make some key points first. Do not worry :)_

**Chapter Two: Mission**

"_I'm walking on broken glass, _

_From the wreckage from my past,_

_Locked up in a cage,_

_Cause' I'm a prisoner of my ways." _

– 'Reckless' by Papa Roach

James stifled a yawn, his eyes twitching at the sides from lack of sleep. It was four am, just three hours after he had gotten home when the blasted alarm went off. Thankfully Lily slept on, but he couldn't help feeling bitter that _he_ could not.

'_That's not fair and you know it.'_ A voice growled at him. _'She has Gwyn to worry about twenty-four seven.'_

He instantly felt guilty. It was true; Lily had quit her Unspeakable job all those years ago because of their young daughter. Never again would they let another child slip away from them by hiring a baby-sitter. No, Lily was determined that if anyone even approached their child they would have to get through her. James smiled grimly to himself, knowing exactly how difficult that really was.

It didn't make things any easier. Even though she was practically home twenty-four seven with their now thirteen-year-old daughter, James could not help but feel uneasy until he saw them again at the end of the day, safe and sound.

Auror Moody towered over them; his electric blue eye swirling around so fast it could make you sick. Sirius made a gagging motion behind his back. James repressed a smile.

He slapped his knarred hand on the table, throwing everyone into silence.

"There's been another incident." He growled. "On a little town called Little Hangleton, just east of the border." He rapped his wand, and a map appeared on the table where a large red dot was marked. "A muggle gardener was reported missing, then later found dead in the abandoned home. The muggle authorities were not able to pin-point the cause' of death, leading us to believe it was by Wizard means."

"Now that I have your attention," He barked. "We shall divide into teams. Potter and Shacklebolt, you will be the team captains. Anything reported goes straight to them, understood?" At their nods he proceeded to make the teams into two or four, all of them going to different parts of the town.

James was scheduled for the house.

Getting his wits together, he closed his eyes and switched to Auror mode, where you left all other problems behind and focused solely on your task. Breathing calmly he reached out and took a hold of the pinstripe tie, the portkey. Across from him Shacklebolt and Sirius nodded gravely.

In a flash of blue light, they were gone.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes.

Where there should have been an enchanted ceiling, there were clouds. Where there should have been people, screaming and chaos…there were flowers. Frowning, he pushed himself to a sitting position, careful not to draw too much attention to himself just incase this was a trap.

The ground beneath him was damp, moist from the morning dew. All around him he saw wildlife…and gravestones. Very familiar gravestones.

Something hard was leaning around his back. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Harry turned, ever so slowly, to see the one thing he was dreading to see.

_Tom Riddle Sr. _

_1898 - 1943 _

'_Because death is inevitable.'_

It felt like the walls were coming in on him, crushing his very core. Breath became harder, and his vision got a little blurry. _'No, not again…'_

It was the graveyard…that one. The same one he watched Cedric die, and Voldemort rise again. The same blasted, ever cursing, graveyard.

Suddenly his vision came back, and his breath returned. There was a difference here. For one, he wasn't being attacked, and two…the gravestone of Riddle Sr. was still standing. He frowned, remembering that night. One of the stray spells he threw back had hit the stone, he was sure of it. And yet, it was still standing.

Something wasn't right.

Sure enough, there was green grass, not scorched cursed stuff from his fourth year. He knew for a fact that rituals tainted the site they were performed on, and if it was grass, it never grew back. And he meant _never_. The spot was forever tainted by something much darker then it's core, leaving an imprint.

But there was grass. It was green.

Harry touched it. No, not an illusion. The dew was fresh and wet his fingers like no illusion ever could. Something was very, very wrong.

He tightened the grip on his wand…no, _the_ wand. This wand, while full of history and unknown power, would never replace his holly and phoenix feather. A twinge of sorrow for his old companion came and went. No time to reminisce on wands right now. He had to get out of here, and back to Hogwarts…if it was still standing.

Swallowing the new lump, he forced himself to focus. _'There fine…they have to be…'_

"Point Me." He whispered, hoping for some place where he could use the floo. Instantly the wand was a spin, then came resting northeast. Without another thought he took off, watching and waiting, but nothing ever came.

For now.

* * *

Gwendolyn put down her book, and starred out the window.

'_Just a week and then school.'_ She sighed wistfully, wishing this stupid war would go away. At least then she could _do_ something. As of now, she was barely allowed out of her mother's site, let alone to pee.

In fact, she can't remember when that wasn't the case.

For some reason, and she had a feeling she knew what it was, it had always been like this. Her mother watching over her and barely letting her out of her site. It was this stupid war and what they took away from her family that caused this. That good for nothing Dark Lord was after _her_ family. Years ago he took away from them something she would never get back; her brother.

She didn't know much about him, except that his name was Harry, he had vibrant green eyes much like her mother's, and unruly dark hair, just like her father's. There was a picture of him above the mantle, and one on her parent's bedside table. He was cute, and so _innocent_. Gwyn just couldn't grasp how something so small and helpless could be yanked away from them, just like that.

It was on Halloween all those years ago, when they went to a party at Uncle Sirius'. Well _she _wasn't born yet, but her parents went, leaving little Harry at home with the babysitter Miss. Figg. If they knew what they did now, they never would have let such a thing happen.

Voldemort, for some reason, decided that Harry needed to die. It had just struck eleven when he attacked, killing Miss Figg and then little Harry, but not before carving a crude lightening bolt into his forehead, as if to mock them.

Bile rose in Gwyn's throat just thinking about it. To defile someone – _a baby!_ – Was just beyond humane. When she heard that, Voldemort seized being an evil _man_ in her mind; he became a monster, and not the type that hides under your bed. He was the kind that would kill your family, and then hang them in your bedroom closet as a surprise. He was the kind that she would have _loved_…to strangle with her bear hands.

A crack in her door warned her of another one's presence - her mother's. Quickly she stuffed the book under her pillow, taking to starring out the window again.

"Gwyn? May I come in?"

"Alright."

Her mother was beautiful. She had long curly locks of deep red all the way to her lower back. Snow-white skin and the pair of greenest eyes she had ever seen, next to Harry's. People often said she looked like her mother, but truth be told, she felt she held more of her father's features. While Gwyn's hair was long and curly, it was black as night, and her skin was light tan colour, just like her father's. What she did have of her mother's was the elfish sculpture of her face, and keen eyes. Although Gwyn's were hazel.

"Is there something you wanted?" Gwyn pretended to be interested in what was going on outside, to distract her from the bulky pillow. Lily, for her part, didn't notice.

"Well, I was just going to tell you that lunch is in five minutes…" She hesitated, and Gwyn knew she wouldn't like what was coming next. "And your father has taken another mission."

Gwyn perked up. "For the Order?"

"No, for the squad."

She felt herself slump. "Oh…when will he be back?"

Lily fidgeted with the door handle, as if to check how sturdy it was. They both knew she was trying to distract herself from the tears. "Two days."

Gwyn had nothing to say. It looks like neither did Lily. As quietly as she had come, her mother left, leaving Gwyn to wonder what the world would be like with no war, and how soon it would all be over.

'_With everyone alive.'_

* * *

James looked at his watch, then out at the house again. It was two hours into the investigation, and still one more to go before they could safely check out the house. So far no activity had been recorded, which was a good sign of it being empty.

However, what was troubling was the sheer emptiness of the street, as if no one dared to come out unless they absolutely had too. He had spotted an old woman looking at him from her blinds, but closed them as soon as they saw each other looking. Frowning, he turned to Sirius who was going to be his co-partner once again, on this mission.

"You notice how still this street is?"

The dark haired man nodded, looking over at a man who was practically running to get inside after grabbing his mail. "I know what you mean, mate. That man looked like a hyena was after him."

"Exactly. I wonder how long they've lived like this?"

Sirius shrugged. "Couldn't tell you."

Another hour ticked by with them doing nothing. In the past they would have cracked open some fizzing whizbees or a game of exploding snap, but those days have long since past. You couldn't afford to be caught unaware in these dark times.

"You hear that?" Sirius perked up, a frown on his face.

James was instantly alert. "No…"

"Neither did I."

They shared a brief smile, settling back. Suddenly a small alarm went off, setting them to their feet. It was time to check out the indoor.

"Wands out, you reckon?"

Sirius nodded, taking up James' back. Since James was one of the designated leaders he was to go first, making sure to see if all was safe, while Sirius had his back incase it wasn't.

The door was just as creaky as it looked, and near falling off, as if it was once blasted from its frame. James shivered, a similar memory brewing in his mind.

'_Harry, where's Harry?'_

'_James! JAMES!'_

'_Lily where -,'_

He shook himself out of that memory, focusing on the here and now. Cobwebs hung all around, clinging to the air like some sort of thick cotton. Here and there a burn mark was on the wall, and signs of forced entry were visible. A vase was broken at their feet.

"Geese, what was that old gardener doing all these years? Sleeping?" Sirius muttered, kicking another broken piece of furniture out of their way. "This place is a dump."

"Looks like Kreacher's cleaning."

Sirius snorted. "A similarity if I ever saw one."

James cracked a grin, looking around the corner. Nothing.

He motioned to Sirius. _"Follow me," _he mouthed, starting up the stairs and down the hall. Above them, light fixtures were cracked and some of the glass lay at their feet. All the windows were either broken or dirty beyond belief.

Then they saw the door.

James' wand clattered to the floor, his face ashen. Behind him, Sirius gasped.

A picture of Gwendolyn was tacked to the door, splattered with what could only be blood, and a message scrawled underneath that sent chills up their spines.

'_History repeats itself.'_

On her forehead was a lightening bolt.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
